


The Things We Do

by Bloodrose84



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodrose84/pseuds/Bloodrose84
Summary: "Crawley... Crowley?Crowley groaned silently to himself. He had just stopped off for a quick drink before heading off to the next job, so to find Aziraphale stood next to him was, frankly, irritating as heaven.





	The Things We Do

"Crawley... Crowley?  
  
Crowley groaned silently to himself. He had just stopped off for a quick drink before heading off to the next job, so to find Aziraphale stood next to him was, frankly, irritating as heaven. It had only been eight years since they last saw each other, before that they’d managed almost a whole millennium and Crowley had been more than willing to go just as long again (if not longer) before seeing the angel again. He didn't understand why he looked so pleased to see him, or was trying to engage him in conversation. They were enemies for hell's sake. But, he supposed it made sense to remain civil, however annoying Aziraphale was being (still a demon? Really? Imbecile.) He answered the angel’s questions as bluntly as he could, already mentally dismissing his unwelcome companion and thinking about the next job.  
  
"... I've heard he does remarkable things with oysters."  
  
"I've never eaten an oyster." Crowley said without thinking, cursing himself almost immediately for engaging. He could feel Aziraphale light up beside him.  
  
"Oh, well then, let me tempt you-" Crowley turned, amused, enjoying the flustered look that crossed Aziraphale's face. "Oh, no, that's... that's your job..." He squirmed uncomfortably and Crowley suppressed his smirk.  
  
"Oysters are an aphrodisiac you know, angel. Two men going for oysters together, there are connotations." He raised an eyebrow and made a show of looking Aziraphale up and down. He expected Aziraphale to get embarrassed, become outraged, to withdraw the invitation and hopefully leave him alone.  
Aziraphale hesitated, then shrugged. “Well...does it matter? We're just two...people... having dinner together. What humans think about it is their own business."  
Crowley blinked. He knew angels, he could predict them. But this one...first giving away his sword and now this. It wasn't often anyone surprised him and now Aziraphale had done it twice. How…unexpectedly interesting.  
"Alright then." He said slowly. "Oysters. Lead the way."

  
****  
  


"I don't know why they're an aphrodisiac." Aziraphale said thoughtfully, chewing.  
  
"No idea." Crowley was regretting coming here. He had already caught the waiter staring a couple of times. He idly watched the other diners for a few seconds, resisting the urge to over-salt a dish or give anyone food poisoning. Everyone seemed so sickeningly _happy_. "Would have thought you'd disapprove."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Meant to be a sin, isn't it? Lust?"  
  
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "They don't actually inspire lust, you know."  
  
"You sure about that?" Crowley grinned, nodding towards a couple of men who were getting decidedly friendly. Aziraphale scoffed, averting his gaze back to their meal.  
"I hardly think the oysters are to blame. Besides, the almighty doesn't actually bother Herself with what goes on between two consenting adults you know. No-one's getting cast out for a one night stand."  
  
Crowley frowned. "Does She cast them out, though?"  
  
"What?" Aziraphale shot him a curious glance. Crowley helped himself to another oyster, not taking his eyes off the angel. He didn’t normally bother with eating, but he had to admit these were ok.  
  
"The humans. You said cast out."  
  
"Oh you know what I mean." Aziraphale said, going slightly pink. "Besides, even if it was a sin, I'm a being of Love. It's not my place to judge them. Every sinner can be saved."  
  
"Right." Crowley looked around the restaurant again. Something was niggling at him. "What are we doing here?"  
  
Aziraphale looked at him. "Having oysters."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The angel opened his mouth to respond then seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. "Why not?" He replied eventually.  
  
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Because we're on opposite sides and we don't like each other?"  
  
Something in the atmosphere shifted then, but before Crowley could figure out what it was Aziraphale had placed some money on the table and stood up.  
  
"You're right of course. This was a mistake. Good day, Crowley." He turned and headed for the door. Crowley watched him go, then downed his wine and followed after him. He caught up with Aziraphale a couple of streets away, falling into step beside him and ignoring the look Aziraphale shot him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"No, come on angel, why did you invite me?"  
  
"Leave me alone, foul demon." Aziraphale turned down an alley and Crowley kept following, skipping in front of him and blocking his way.  
  
"Were you trying to save me?" He mocked. Aziraphale glared.  
  
"You are beyond saving, you've been cast out. Irredeemable. It'd be easier to destroy you." He made to move past Crowley but the demon held out an arm to block him. The comment about being cast out stung, no matter how much he wanted to pretend it didn't. He crowded into Aziraphale's space, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "Destroy me?" Crowley hissed. " _Destroy me?_ ”  
  
“Move out of my way, please.” Aziraphale said coldly. Crowley jabbed him again.  
  
“No, come on, angel.” He spat, darkly, “You started this. Show me what you've got."  
  
Aziraphale suddenly pushed him into the wall and Crowley fully expected the next thing he felt to be the angel's fist in his stomach. Instead, he found Aziraphale’s mouth pressed forcefully against his own. _A third time. He really is full of surprises._ Something sparked inside him. With a growl he pushed Aziraphale against the opposite wall. He saw fear flash in the blue eyes briefly before he swooped forwards and kissed him again, fingers tangling in his blonde hair.  
  
Aziraphale moaned. He actually moaned and oh Heaven this was something Crowley never knew he wanted but he knew he would give anything just to keep this moment going now that it was happening. He pressed his body against Aziraphale's, hips bucking involuntarily as sensations overwhelmed him. His hands flew to the front of Aziraphale's toga, he needed more, more contact, more skin, more sensations, just _more_. Aziraphale mirrored his action and then they were moving against each other and it was all heat and friction and _oh God Satan anybody yes_. Crowley felt like he might explode. He lost all sense of time; it could have been hours or simply minutes (almost certainly minutes) before Aziraphale suddenly clutched him tight, gasping his climax and Crowley quickly followed; burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck, his vision whiting out briefly as his whole body sparked with pleasure.  
  
They stood there together, breathing heavily for several seconds before Crowley's brain caught up with what had just happened and he pushed himself away from Aziraphale. He swallowed, straightening his toga.  
  
"Well. That was a thing that happened."  
  
"Yes." Aziraphale wasn't looking at him. Crowley found, much to his surprise, that he didn’t like it. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Never done that before."  
  
"No. Me neither."  
  
Crowley considered. "Quite enjoyed myself. I can see why the humans like it."  
  
"Indeed." Aziraphale shot him a tight smile which didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
"Just a one off, of course.” Crowley said carefully. “Keep it between us."  
  
Aziraphale visibly relaxed. "Quite right. No need to complicate anything, no need for anyone else to know.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, and then smiled weakly, a real smile this time. “I'd better be going."  
  
"See you around, angel." Crowley watched Aziraphale walk off. What the fuck had just happened? He'd had sex with an angel, almost certainly the only demon in existence to do so. He started compiling the memo to head office about how he'd seduced his heavenly adversary (probably get him some sort of recognition or commendation) but quickly scrapped the mental note. He couldn't tell them; definitely not because of what he and Aziraphale had agreed. He was a demon, what did he care about agreements with angels? He just couldn't tell them because he wasn't sure what the fuck to say, because he didn't feel like the seducer.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley would be lying if he said he hadn't expected to see Aziraphale fairly soon after their latest encounter (discovering Crowley was the Black Night had no doubt been wonderfully frustrating) but to find the angel knocking on his door mere hours later was far sooner than he'd thought it would happen. For one thing, he had no idea how the angel knew where he was staying. He leant casually against the doorframe, masking his surprise with a wicked grin.  
  
"Sir Aziraphale. How good of you to drop in." His voice dripped with mockery. Aziraphale glared.  
  
"Crowley." He pushed past the demon into his room and turned to face him.  
  
"Can I offer you a drink?" Crowley asked silkily.  
  
"I can't stay." Aziraphale said stiffly. "I have a blessing to get to. I just wanted to stop in tell you again how ridiculous your idea was and make sure you don't do... something." Crowley raised his eyebrows. He’d gone to the effort of tracking him down just to repeat himself? He expected Crowley to believe that? Really?  
  
"A quick drink then." Crowley said. Aziraphale hesitated. "Oh come on, angel, one drink won't hurt."  
  
"Fine. But then I'm leaving. To do my Good work."  
  
"Fair enough.” Crowley smiled, handing him a glass seemingly from nowhere. Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously. "Do you think I'm going to poison you, angel?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." Aziraphale snapped, taking a sip of the dark amber liquid. Crowley grinned.  
  
"Very trusting of you."  
  
"Yes, well." Aziraphale drained the glass. "Even if you did discorporate me I wouldn't be gone long. Not worth the effort on your part I’m sure."  
  
"Indeed." Crowley looked him up and down. Something inside him was twisting, aching, and he couldn't help thinking back to the last time he'd seen Aziraphale. Couldn’t help remembering the feel of his body, the taste of his lips…  
  
"Thank you for the drink. I’m leaving now." Aziraphale opened the door to go, and suddenly Crowley was at his side, closer than was strictly speaking necessary. He pushed the door closed. Aziraphale glared.  
  
"Let me out, Crowley."  
  
"Yeah, alright, sure. I could do that. But…" He leant forwards quickly and gently bit Aziraphale's throat before swiping his forked tongue over the bite mark. "Are you sure you want to leave?"  
  
Aziraphale was very still. "Yes." He breathed.  
  
"It's very damp out there." Crowley continued, crowding Aziraphale against the door. "Much nicer here. Dry... comfortable...warm..." He was taking a risk, he knew, but it wasn't really one he cared about the outcome of. Either Aziraphale pushed him away and left (and then hopefully left Crowley alone) or he stayed and Crowley didn't have to go out and work. He definitely didn't have a preference, he told himself as he looked Aziraphale in the eyes. Definitely not. Still, he couldn't stop himself smiling when Aziraphale sighed and pulled him into a kiss which Crowley could only describe as angry. They stumbled back together, Crowley twisting them round and falling on top of the angel as they tumbled back on to the bed. _This is why you came here_ he thought, nipping at Aziraphale’s ear and enjoying the angel’s gasp more than he thought he should. _This is going to be fun._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Crowley!”  
  
Crowley was sat in a gloomy little tavern, nursing a tankard of frankly terrible ale and wondering what he could do for entertainment tonight. Crowley was bored. At the sound of his name, he looked up, a smile half formed on his face when he saw who it was before he caught himself and schooled it into a more neutral expression. “Aziraphale. Hello. How was Edinburgh?”  
  
Aziraphale grimaced. “Painful. I really don’t like horses.” He slid into the seat next to Crowley, shifting gingerly.  
  
“All go to plan though?”  
  
Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Blessing, temptation, all taken care of.”  
  
“Wonderful.” Crowley grinned. “Can I buy you a drink?”  
  
Aziraphale eyed the tankard dubiously. “From here?”  
  
Crowley laughed. “I’m sure I’ve got a bottle or two of something back at my place. Come on.”  
  
They walked together in comfortable silence, both enjoying the evening. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the little cottage Crowley was renting. He let them in, gesturing at the small sitting room.  
  
“Welcome to my humble abode.”  
  
“It’s lovely.” Aziraphale looked around. “Your taste is a little…austere.”  
  
“Feel free to get me some cushions. Ah!” Crowley triumphantly held up a bottle of wine. “Knew I hadn’t drunk it yet.” He set about preparing drinks, handing a glass to Aziraphale who sniffed it appreciatively.  
  
“Ah. Wonderful.” He sipped and let out a contented sigh. Crowley’s stomach flipped and he coughed nervously. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling suddenly anxious, this was basically old hat for them now. They met, they drank, they…fucked (for want of a better word), they went their separate ways again. Something new was buzzing in the air this time though – they weren’t arguing for a start, which was what usually kicked things off. He smiled tightly and Aziraphale beamed at him. “I wanted to thank you for Hamlet. I heard people talking about it in Edinburgh. Can you imagine! You made it into a roaring success.”  
  
“Yes. Well.” Crowley shrugged awkwardly. “It’s not bad. Considering it’s not one of the funny ones.”  
  
Aziraphale’s smile widened and he set his glass down. “Really, my dear. Thank you.”  
  
_My dear_. Crowley was suddenly very aware of his hands, he had no idea how he usually held them. Aziraphale was still smiling at him like he expected some sort of response and Crowley just felt completely lost. He cast around for something to say. “Don’t make me regret it, angel. I didn’t do it to be kind.”  
  
The light in Aziraphale’s eyes dimmed somewhat and Crowley immediately wanted to take it back.  
  
“Of course you didn’t. Don’t worry, I won’t mention it again.” He stepped back, and it was only then Crowley realised how close Aziraphale had been standing.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Right.” Crowley fiddled with his wine glass. “Aziraphale, listen-“  
  
“I should go.” Aziraphale smiled, that awful smile which didn’t reach his eyes. “It was lovely seeing you Crowley. Truly.”  
  
“You don’t have to…I mean, you could-“  
  
“Goodbye, Crowley.” And with that, he turned and left the cottage, leaving Crowley, all of a sudden, feeling very alone. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley didn’t see much of Aziraphale for the next 150 years or so. It wasn’t that he was deliberately avoiding him, which would be ridiculous; it was entirely coincidental that his temptations and various other evil deeds kept him in totally different areas of the world to the angel. When he heard about a “queer English gentleman” being caught up in the French Revolution, though, he knew full well who it was, even if he had no idea what he was doing there – last he’d heard Aziraphale was opening a bookshop in Soho.  
  
_Leave it, Crowley._  
  
As if that would happen.  
  
It was rather harder to get to Aziraphale than he had intended, having to get to a whole other country and into the cell without Downstairs finding out. But the way Aziraphale said his name, the smile on his face, somehow made it all worth it.  
  
They had Crepes. They talked. They laughed. It felt…good. Different, but good. It wasn’t long before Crowley realised they should probably get back to England before anyone noticed their absence, but something told him that mentioning this to Aziraphale would somehow ruin this thing between them and he didn’t want that.  
  
He had, though he was loathe to admit it, missed him.  
  
“We should probably be heading home.” Aziraphale said suddenly, and Crowley felt his heart sink. Oh. It was over, then.  
  
“Yeah. Probably.” He looked across at Aziraphale, watching the way the light framed his face. Aziraphale caught him looking.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Let’s get a room.” Crowley said suddenly.  
  
Aziraphale choked on a mouthful of Crepe. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Well we can’t miracle ourselves home.” Crowley said, quickly, “We’ll need to buy passage. We have a far better chance in the morning. So let’s get a room.”  
  
Aziraphale stared hard at his glass. “Just the one room?” He asked in what was clearly supposed to be a casual tone. Crowley felt suddenly very warm.  
  
“Is that a problem?”  
  
“No.” Aziraphale looked up at him. “No, I suppose not.”  
  
They enquired about a room and were directed to a nearby tavern where Aziraphale had no problem charming the landlady into renting them a room for the night. They’d barely made it inside before Crowley was on him, pushing him against the door with a bruising kiss.  
  
“Crowley…”  
  
“Shh. Let’s just enjoy this.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Do you want me to stop?”  
  
“God, no.” Aziraphale bunched his fists in Crowley’s lapels, flipping their positions so he was pinning the demon to the wall. Crowley damn near melted as he surrendered himself to Aziraphale’s ministrations, pointedly ignoring the little voice in the back of his head telling him how much he’d missed this.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aziraphale, what…?” Crowley stood aside, slightly alarmed, allowing the angel into his rooms. It was almost two in the morning and he’d been awoken by a pounding on the door. He’d sprung up and opened the door, not wanting his landlady waking up and bitching at him again (he’d had to work far too many glamours on that hag just to keep her off his back. She didn’t seem to like him for some reason. Possibly because she had absolutely no memory of renting him rooms and yet somehow found herself completely unable to kick him out.) It had been almost a decade since he'd seen Aziraphale so he’d been surprised to find him standing there, looking more unhappy than Crowley could remember seeing him in recent centuries.  
  
“What’s happened?” He asked urgently.  
  
“Nothing, I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t know where else to go.”  
  
“Aziraphale?”  
  
“I was robbed, ok?” Aziraphale snapped. He wouldn’t look at Crowley. “In the shop. They broke in, emptied the till and made off with some books. Don’t laugh!”  
  
Crowley raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to!” he protested, “Why would I laugh?”  
  
“Because I was robbed. Me! Stuff like that isn’t supposed to happen to ethereal beings, and they took- they took-” he broke off and swallowed thickly. “I shouldn’t have come. I apologise. I’ll track the books down I’m sure, don’t really care about the money-“  
  
"Aziraphale. Come here." Crowley interrupted softly, reaching out and pulling Aziraphale towards him in a tight embrace. The angel stiffened for a second then seemed to melt against him, burying his face in Crowley's neck. Crowley swallowed, his stomach squirmed pleasantly and he felt a moment of disgust with himself for enjoying this when Aziraphale was so clearly upset. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's temple and felt the angel shiver. _Oh_. He hesitated, and then kissed him again, beside his ear, letting his lips linger for several seconds. Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath and Crowley's stomach flipped. He gently nudged Aziraphale's face with his, and then Aziraphale's mouth was on his and oh. They were kissing, soft, gentle, so unlike anything they'd ever done before and Crowley couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping his throat.  
  
_I love you._  
  
It hit him, suddenly, and everything clicked into place. This man, this angel, this ethereal being... whatever you wanted to call him, Crowley was completely head over heels in love with him. He suddenly felt breathless (a new experience considering he didn’t need to breath) and pulled back slightly, looking in to Aziraphale’s eyes. Not breaking eye contact, his hands moved to undo the buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat; moving slowly enough to give the angel plenty of time to protest if he so wanted. No protest came. Aziraphale allowed Crowley to remove the waistcoat entirely, then pulled him in to a searing kiss. Crowley stumbled back towards the bedroom, not breaking the kiss, each of them shedding clothing as they went. His knees hit the bed and he sat down, gazing up at Aziraphale.  
  
“You’re beautiful.” He murmured. Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing; instead leaning down and resuming their kiss, pushing Crowley backwards on to the bed. Crowley went more than willingly.  
  
****  
  
As they lay quietly in the afterglow some time later, Crowley wondered if Aziraphale had felt what he did. He point blank refused to call it ‘making love’ (ew) but there was no denying something had been different this time; an underlying intensity that he’d never felt before. He rolled onto his side, facing Aziraphale, and opened his mouth to speak but before he could Aziraphale swung himself out of bed and began picking up discarded clothing.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Crowley asked, sitting up. Aziraphale paused, looking at him.  
  
“Yes. I should be getting back to my rooms. It’s late.”  
  
“Stay.” Crowley whispered. He felt insanely vulnerable. Aziraphale tensed.  
  
“What?”  
  
Crowley swallowed heavily. “Aziraphale. Stay. Please.”  
  
Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Crowley.”  
  
“Oh. Right. Well then.” Crowley looked away; suddenly afraid of what Aziraphale might see in his eyes. “Since you’re here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you-“  
  
“I need to go. We’ll meet tomorrow. Rendezvous 3, one o clock?”  
  
Before Crowley had a chance to reply, Aziraphale had gathered the last of his things and almost fled from the room. Crowley slumped back against his pillows.  
  
Fuck.  
  
How had he allowed this to happen? He didn’t even think he was capable of feeling love anymore, let alone _that_ sort of love. But there was no denying it; now that he had let the thought blossom he realised that not only was it true, it had been true for thousands of years. Crowley knew he had used to hate the angel but honestly couldn’t remember, couldn’t remember when his feelings had changed, couldn’t imagine feeling anything but all consuming adoration.  
  
He briefly considered going out, hunting down the thieves who had hurt his angel and making them feel the same pain they’d caused (just maybe in a more violent sense) but he quickly decided against it. Aziraphale would no doubt _forgive_ the bastards, if he hadn’t already. Forgiving Crowley, however, seemed to be something which took a lot longer. Plus, if Aziraphale was angry with him he wouldn’t get him the Holy Water. He wasn’t sure how long it would take the angel to get hold of it, but he would feel better once he had it. Just for insurance.  
  
Then perhaps they could deal with the whole Love thing.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you coming?" Crowley called, peering back over his shoulder. Aziraphale was still stood in the ruins of the church, staring at him. At Crowley’s call, he seemed to shake himself out of his trance.  
  
"Sorry." He said, stumbling through the rubble after him. "Sorry."  
  
"It's alright." Crowley opened the driver's door of the Bentley and stood there for a second, eying him curiously. "Everything ok?"  
  
"Yes, yes, fine. Everything's fine." Aziraphale climbed into the car, clutching his bag. Crowley shrugged, getting in himself and starting the engine. He supposed it was reasonable the angel was somewhat shaken after what had happened; almost losing his books. "Bookshop?"  
  
"Oh, er, yes. Thank you."  
  
They drove in silence, but Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale's mind working. He was thinking about something and Crowley wished he would just say it, whatever it was. Should he say something to Aziraphale? Probably not. Quicker than should be expected, they pulled up outside Aziraphale's shop. They both sat there.  
  
"Angel?" Crowley said eventually.  
  
"Hmm? Oh!" The angel seemed to realise where they were and flushed, undoing his seatbelt. "Thank you again. For the rescue." His fingers twitched on the bag's handle. Crowley smiled softly.  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Aziraphale looked at him, then, and Crowley's smile faltered at the intensity in his gaze. Before he could say anything else, Aziraphale cupped his face with one hand and kissed him. It was soft and chaste and over before Crowley really knew what to do. Aziraphale rested their foreheads together for a second then got out of the car without another word and went into the shop, never looking back. Crowley touched his mouth, wonderingly, sitting there frozen for several minutes. Then he started the car and drove away.  
  
In the rear-view mirror, he saw Aziraphale finally lock the front door.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley stared at the flask in his hands in mute disbelief. It looked so…innocent. So innocuous. So _tartan_. He was holding the most deadly substance known to demon-kind and Aziraphale had put it in something which looked like it should contain tea for an elderly lady.  
  
And that should not be endearing.  
  
He’d not seen Aziraphale since that night in the church back in the war and his heart had leapt in joy to find his angel sat in the front seat of the Bentley. It quickly sank again when he realised how nervous he was, and he wasn’t sure what to expect when he’d asked Aziraphale what he wanted to talk to him about. He definitely hadn’t been expecting this.  
  
“It’s the real thing?” He asked cautiously.  
  
“The holiest.”  
  
“After everything you said?” Crowley looked at him, and Aziraphale looked away. He nodded. Crowley looked back at the flask, mind racing. What did this mean? Aziraphale had made it clear he didn’t want to give this to him, but that he cared enough to stop him risking himself in a robbery…he looked back at him.  
  
“Should I say thank you?”  
  
“Better not.” Aziraphale gave a small smile which looked more like a grimace. He looked like he was already regretting this and Crowley was struck by a need to comfort him, make him feel better, get him to smile for real.  
  
“Can I…can I drop you anywhere, or…?” _Can I take you back to my place? Can I come to yours?_ He couldn’t hide his disappointment fast enough when Aziraphale refused, and the angel made a face.  
  
“Don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could, I don’t know, go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
Something in his tone bothered Crowley. This felt like a goodbye. “I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.” He said, slightly desperately. _Please don’t leave me_. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if Aziraphale got out of the car now this whole thing would be over.  
  
Aziraphale swallowed. "You go too fast for me, Crowley."  
  
Crowley watched him get out of the car and walk away. So this is what heartbreak felt like. Huh. He delicately ran his fingers over the cap of the thermos, then shuddered and placed it carefully in the glove compartment.  
  
“Alcohol.” He muttered to himself, gunning the engine and pulling out far too quickly, narrowly avoiding two women crossing the road. He drove back to his flat without really thinking about it and carefully carried the thermos inside, heading straight for his safe. He flung out its contents haphazardly behind him before carefully placing the thermos inside. He closed the door and stood there for a long moment, head resting against his Mona Lisa sketch. Then he quickly turned and headed for his throne, grabbing a bottle of scotch as he walked past it on the table and flung himself down. He’d come up with a plan as to how to use his insurance later, right now all he intended to do was drink himself into a stupor.  
  
It had been that sort of a day.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eleven years.  
  
Eleven years and he’d not gone a single day without seeing Aziraphale.  
  
And now it was over.  
  
They’d averted Armageddon. They’d finally gotten Heaven and Hell off their backs. They’d dined at the Ritz. They’d talked and they’d laughed and now they were walking to Aziraphale’s shop in comfortable silence and Crowley felt like his heart might break again.  
  
The last time they’d said goodbye, on that chilly night in 1967, he hadn’t known if he’d even see the angel again. Being handed the antichrist had, of course, put paid to that and Crowley was absurdly grateful considering everything it had entailed. But this felt like another ending. There was no longer any need to see each other all the time, no need for late night drinking, or secret meetings in dark alleys, or midnight phone calls for updates. How long would it be, now, until he saw his angel again? A day? A week? A year? Longer? He couldn’t let that happen.  
  
Aziraphale looked at him as he unlocked the door.  
  
“Crowley, are you quite alright my dear?”  
  
“Absolutely fine, angel. Tickety-boo.” He grinned. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Tickety-boo?”  
  
Crowley shrugged. “What? You said it first.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
Before long they were both firmly ensconced on Aziraphale’s sofa, a bottle of wine on the table in front of them. Crowley went to pour a couple of glasses but Aziraphale placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked at the angel questioningly.  
  
“Crowley, I just wanted to say…well…thank you.”  
  
“For…?”  
  
“We’ve been through a lot together these past few years. It’s been…wonderful. Armageddon aside.”  
  
“Armageddon aside” Crowley agreed with a smile. Aziraphale beamed, eyes sparkling.  
  
“And I think-” Aziraphale leant closer, eyes flicking to Crowley’s mouth. “I think this should-” he went to close the distance between them, but Crowley put up a hand to stop him.  
  
"Please don't."  
  
Aziraphale pulled back, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Crowley?"  
  
Crowley smiled reassuringly. "Everything's fine angel. I'm just tired."  
  
"Oh. I mean I wasn't...if you want to sleep we can-"  
  
"No, I mean..." Crowley sighed and took off his sunglasses so he could see Aziraphale properly. "I mean I'm tired of this." He gestured vaguely between them.  
  
Aziraphale stilled. "...this?" He asked quietly. Crowley nodded.  
  
"I thought you'd died, Aziraphale. And it nearly broke me."  
  
"Oh-" Aziraphale started, but Crowley held up a hand and Aziraphale fell silent.  
  
"Please let me finish. Cards on the table. I don’t want to go back to not seeing you for decades. I don’t want to lose you. Having said that; I want it all or I want nothing. So please don't." He swallowed and looked Aziraphale in the eyes again. Here we go. No turning back now. "Not unless you mean it. Not unless you think you can love me like I love you. If not, this needs to stop and we need to just be friends, no benefits or extras."  
  
Aziraphale frowned. "Love you like you love me?"  
  
Crowley huffed out a chuckle. "I've been in love with you for a long time, Aziraphale. I thought that was obvious. But unless you think you could feel the same I'd rather not do...any of that anymore."  
  
Aziraphale shook his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
Crowley's heart sank, but he masked his pain with a smile. "Right. Fine. That's Ok. I should pour this wine, we could-"  
  
"No, I mean..." Aziraphale smiled softly. "I mean I thought you knew how I felt. I just thought...with our head offices keeping an eye...I thought it was sort of an unspoken agreement that we wouldn't acknowledge...this.”  
  
Crowley stared, dumbfounded. “…What?”  
  
“I thought I was fairly obvious. I denied it for a few decades I’ll admit, but lately I didn’t think I’d been particularly subtle about my feelings.”  
  
“I thought I went ‘too fast’ for you?”  
  
“Oh.” Aziraphale suddenly seemed very interested in his hands. His cheeks had gone pink. “Well. That would be the denial I suppose. I-” he looked up. “I was already hopelessly in love with you by then my dear, but, well, with the Holy Water and everything…” he trailed off.  
  
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Crowley sighed impatiently. "So is there a reason you're not kissing me now, or-"  
  
He was cut off by Aziraphale’s lips and he melted against him with a smile, pulling him close. This was the first kiss of the first day of the rest of their lives, and Crowley intended to savour every second of it.


End file.
